


Blood Horizon

by irumen



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Game, Alternate Universe - No Killing Game (Dangan Ronpa), Angst, Delusions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:28:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27719552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irumen/pseuds/irumen
Summary: Was it a dream?Or was it Shuichi's twisted reality blinding him from the absolute truth—from peace with his mind and body.After an unsettling dream, Shuichi Saihara reinitiates and remembers memories from his past in hopes to find the feeling he so longs for. Satisfied with life, yet filled with the desire to do more, and to be more as well.TW:Mental Illness, Delusions, Hallucinations, Major Character Death
Relationships: Akamatsu Kaede & Saihara Shuichi, Harukawa Maki & Saihara Shuichi, Momota Kaito & Saihara Shuichi, Oma Kokichi & Saihara Shuichi, Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi, Saihara Shuichi & Shirogane Tsumugi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	Blood Horizon

Cardinal paint splattered the sky with soft coral clouds, as if he could touch them with his palm—touching and feeling the blistering nausea that accompanied toxins and smoke in a pitchy sonata. One that did not need to be heard, was rather unheard, but still appreciated when played right.

Nothing about this world was right, not to his ears, his eyes. Shuichi dug his heels into the black sand beach more, the amber in his pupils glinting along the sun’s final rays of hope as it descended beyond the sea, leaving assurance to all that saw it. Such feelings came opposite to the detective however, for while the air was hot, his body was frigid.

He trembled, lowering his tired arm so that his shaky hand could reside in his pocket. The waves lapped at his toes, causing the slightest of tremors, chills reverberating up his spine even. Unaware, Shuichi murmured to himself, not bothering to flick away the strands of hair blocking his vision, his lack of sense to what was around him underwhelming the experience. The craziest of things could happen—anything could happen, as long as you were dreaming.

And he was, so to speak.

The pull of the melody the ocean played, plucking the strings of his heart with such grace, the warmth of vibrato that began to circulate through his blood, allowing a smile to slip through to his exterior that was wedged deep within his thoughts. It was something appreciated, something that yearned to be heard by the hearts of many. Soft fingers danced, every tap along the keyboard bringing forth a new wave, the music beginning to fade. Shuichi’s reveries of an isolated place became his sanctuary, clearing his mind as he rested his cheeks from the unexpected grin.

The pull became stronger the more quiet it became. It was the climax of the symphony, its forte that would drive it towards its final conclusion. Silence was a beautiful sound to the young man, a lulling sense overcoming him that he couldn’t control. Sleep had ensnared him, his consciousness lulling him, his imagination puppeteering him. Not much needed to be said as he walked, step after step—forward, no objections. He desired closeness to the sun, tranquility despite the heavy aura of violence stitched into the clouds.

Now it was his turn, the accompanist to this forbidden sound, this closeness to his heart that he felt in tune to every one of his senses, no longer fading in and out of what he deemed tangible, plausible to himself and others. He was in control, he was happy. He was in harmony with the new prelude, each step along the glass floor producing a soft _clink_ in a song that he didn’t know but was all too familiar with.

Sleep had pulled him back to reality, strangely enough. Thoughts running wild, he knew in his heart that it didn’t matter what he saw, what voices he heard. All was clear as slow walking became running, circulating air through his dry throat as his heart hammered against his chest. 

He had withdrawn himself as the ashes began to fade behind him, flecks carried in the wind, propelling him forward. The smoke had risen, clouding his sense of serenity. Rivens and fractals became deranged as his perception swum around him like a koi curious by the copper pennies tossed in its pond. Night now stood centre stage, taking a bow as it raised its violin to the sky, a soloist overpowering him as the audience listened intently. Shuichi turned on cue to the stars, lifting his foot ever so slightly as he smashed his heel through the thin sheet of ice. Ice or glass, it didn’t really matter; his stomach lurched as the ground gave away beneath him, and time seemed to no longer slack like a loose thread, as everything slowed around him, his bangs no longer shielding the crown of his head, the armor he once dawned now gone with the gales that passed.

If there was one thing he truly desired within those moments, it was his longing to see more, to do more. He was satisfied, yet he craved another sense—a higher plane of something he could not grasp as the air rushed out of his lungs. The detective extended a hand out towards the last rays of sunlight that barely trickled along the warped horizon. An orange glow was felt, his body now on fire, him and the realm switching places. It was all framed perfectly. One moment in time, a perfect shot; he could see it in his head. He knew very well there could’ve been some sort of lens or monitor that’d be willing to fill the void of what he imagined himself to look like within that fragment of time.

Everything looped full circle once more, and it didn’t take an investigator to figure out the dense hug that cradled him, his locks framing his pale cheekbones as the light pooled overhead in ripples. He parted his lips blowing delicate bubbles, refreshed by this new feeling of hydration, of suffocation and pain as the world closed around him, and his visions came to a close, the tender hand he once held that glowed now completely fading on his wake.

Shuichi sat up in a cold sweat, feeling a relative sense of calmness and peace that he wished to never let go of. Ah, the sky was still a clear blue; he smeared his palm over his left eye agitating the lid until it was completely in tune with his disarrayed balance. He felt the cold metal of his phone lying next to him on the mat; he must’ve passed out while using it.

Gaining a sense of control, he unlocked the home screen wondering what the last thing he accomplished was before tiredness decided to sweep him off his feet. He scrolled through messages, letting out a pent-up sigh he didn’t know he was holding. He had been talking to Kaede, it appeared. She had wished him goodnight about an hour after he had sent his last message, the girl figuring that he most likely fell asleep. She had left him a friendly reminder to eat well in the morning and drink some water, a smiley face added at the end of the note.

Even before Saihara ate, the first thing he did in the mornings was splash his face with cold water to feel something, anything to feel more surrounded by living breathing things. A sense of isolation always followed him on whatever path he decided to trek that day—the feeling of a lost wandering spirit haunting the streets of Japan in search of the afterlife. The tingly feeling that turned his cheeks a dark saturated pink helped him realize he was human, that he was here and not a detached corpse from the rest of the world. 

The complexion of tiredness always remained in his eyes despite how many times he looked in the mirror or how much he slept. It came as a rushing wind overwhelming him as his whole body began to numb, clasping his arms shuddering from the sudden change of temperature. There was snow, snow everywhere; humanity was silent as nature began to hunt its prey. One moment the sky had darkened within him, and now the atmosphere was a depressing washed out grey, as he watched figures and silhouettes drift on top of the snow, alone and separate from him.

They irked and made whimpers unlike any creature he had seen or heard, their glowing eyes pinning him on the spot. Shuichi just stood there, hearing the screams of listless arctic animals as they prowled around him. Unaware of how long he was standing there, he glanced down at his bare feet as the howling wind began to die down, his hair resting idly on his scalp, still as his stature.

He was still in the bathroom; he mused to himself as he patted his face dry with the small washcloth hanging from the brim. Another one of his hallucinations that had stopped by, a subway he chose not to board.

Shuichi then proceeded with his morning routine as always. Brushing his teeth before slipping his feet into some sandals and taking the stairway down to the main floor where the mail was. Not many were up and at it at this time. Last he checked his nightstand clock it read 6:23. The young detective had a subscription to a newspaper that was delivered to his box about every three days, and he usually consumed the articles in idle memory as he ate breakfast. After quickly swallowing his pills, he began to fill a jug of water usually used in commercial coffeehouses for hot beverages. It was an old one his friend Kirumi had given to him, since they were originally going to toss the old plastic thing at the local cafe she worked at.

Watering the several plants he now housed had become something a few months new to him. Gonta and Angie had picked some out for him for his birthday, including some lopsided vines that decided to crawl all over his bookcase. Suppressing a yawn with his palm, he watered the soil and roots of his friends.

The rest of his chores passed in a blur, not having to leave until later on. He figured he might as well read the reports he had been emailed. He was supposed to inspect a crime scene for any leads or clues before the forensic cleaners took over. As of now, the store had been barricaded with gleaming yellow tape, dark pigmented words ensuring all who crossed its path stay away.

The train was always Shuichi’s downtime, softly letting piano sonatas drown out the blaring noises of honking cars, police sirens, and other paraphernalia that happened along the streets. He let his mind wander, that same feeling of longing nagging at him. He didn’t really understand that still, but perhaps he’d have to wai—

“Excuse me sir?”

He whirled around, no one there as he gently yanked out his earbuds, scanning the rattling capsule for any small children. No harmless prank it seemed. It must’ve been his imagination, an auditory thought that lapsed. He swore it sounded familiar.

The ocean sparkled under the purple pink sky, watching it ripple and dance through the window. It was a waltz; one, two, three. He counted the seconds as the water folded in on itself in a rhythmic pattern. He should probably reply to Kaede as the sonatina played once more, his stiff fingers lightly tapping the blue light he held.

* * *

“Glass shards.” he murmured. “A lot of them.”

“There sure are a lot of them.” The clerk shook her head, before pulling along the edges of her shawl, the winter breeze attacking her cheeks. “What can you do, though? People want to advertise their product, after all.”

The detective, now in action, could barely hear her over the lousy drivers cursing at other vehicles, slamming their hands against the horn.

“It doesn’t get quiet around here, does it?”

“The noise doesn’t go away, I can assure you.” The girl bit down on her tongue by accident, shoving her hands deeper into her pockets.

“Tsumugi, could you perhaps reiterate what happened here yesterday?”

The cobalt haired girl tapped her chin in thought, wind swirling her long locks into a tangle. “I was at the counter of the seamstress as always, preparing to return a garment to a client after mending it, when I heard a loud _crash_! And then, there he was on the ground, his face bloodied and bruised—it was blood everywhere.”

“Was he thrown at the window, thus why it’s broken?”

“Precisely!” the girl exclaimed. “Let’s see. There was someone else too. They were also bleeding, but not as much. I remember they had a cut on their cheek and were overall dressed in black, but that’s all I recall.”

“Did the person who was thrown have any other injuries?” Shuichi raised an eyebrow.

“How so?”

“He died.”

Clearly Tsumugi had not been informed. “I— he did? How though?”

“I have yet to review the autopsy report, though I may have to double check something else to be clear. Do you remember anything else in particular, or overall even?”

“Yes, actually.” The seamstress pushed the frame of her glasses up so it sat properly on her nose. “The man who was thrown seemed to be in a crazed state. I don’t think he was fully aware of what was going on.

“That.. may or may not confirm my suspicions.” His work was done here. He turned back to the barricaded window, the shards twinkling along the morning sun as they slowly began to lift up. Shuichi took a step back, his hip bumping against the ledge of the counter, fumbling to find his ground.

“Shuichi, are you alright?”

“Yes, sorry about that. I thought I saw something that wasn’t there.” He swiped down his face with his cold hand, checking the time while he was at it. “Would you mind if I further contacted you for interrogation?”

“I don’t mind, as long as this gets solved.” Tsumugi huffed, crossing her arms, before unfolding one to reach into her pocket. “You can call me by this number.” She handed him a matte card, crisp and fresh.

“Thank you. I really do have to get going now.” he half-heartedly chuckled, scratching the crook of his neck. He had almost forgotten about having lunch with Kaito.

Luckily, it wasn’t too far from where it was. It was apparently some old-fashioned ramen stand that still remained true to its recipes even after nearly eighty years. He should’ve known his classmate would pick a place like this.

Saihara was in a daze; the cars felt closer than normal, as if his ears were rupturing and collapsing in on themselves. He didn’t want to think about it, though it was hard not to. _Focus on the red light_ , he told himself. The warping died down as he hurried over the crosswalk, only having to travel another block or so.

“Shuichi! I’m glad you could make it!” Kaito waved at him to come over, patting the chair next to him.

“Hello, hah.” He smiled, giving him a “bro” hug; a side one he should say, accompanied with a shoulder pat, before shrugging off his jacket so that he could properly adjust to the warmer atmosphere inside. “How’s your Master’s degree treating you?”

“Oh! Astronomy is great as a minor. I just need to get the geist of engineering and physics. But hey! It isn’t work if you enjoy doing it, you know?”

“I suppose that could be considered?” He rolled his shoulders adjusting his bad posture. “Are we still going on that run this weekend with Maki?”

“Yea, most likely. She’s just got a few other things to attend to.” Kaito ran his hair through his fingers subconsciously before opening the menu. “I saw the news recently about that seamstress place that got crashed by a fight. Someone was killed, right?”

“Huh? Oh yea, it was a scuffle that got out of hand.”

“Hah, it’s just like you to be on the case, Shuichi. Don’t let your detective work fail you, alright?”

“It’s not my detective work I’m worried about. I mean, even now I’m not that confident in it, but that isn’t my main issue, really.”

“Oh, right! Your delusions?”

“They’re not delusions, Kaito. Hallucinations—there’s a difference. Ah, thank you.” He nodded to the server, who brought them both glasses of water.

“My bad—we’ve gone over this before.”

“It’s alright, really. I just don’t speak very openly about them.” Shuichi returned a kind smirk to his friend, before they placed their orders and continued to chat idly.

The bell at the door rang after some time, and he turned to see who it was out of curiosity, wondering who could be deciding to eat this late in the afternoon. A flash of white and a pale smile caught itself in the corner of his eye, before feeling a tap on the shoulder from Kaito.

“Is someone there, Shuichi?”

“Ah, no. I don’t think so. Thanks for the wake-up call.” he smiled.

“Anytime, sidekick.” Ah, that nickname. 

The rest of the day went by smoothly. He had headed to the office to read the report, forming a theory yet to be investigated due to the fact that the victim’s corpse was pumped and filled with morphine. Sitting still in his office, fidgeting as he looked out his window. The run was this weekend, he told himself, but he wanted to get out _now._

Once work was truly done, he grabbed a bento of sushi to eat at home, managing to grab a seat on the train for his evening commute. 

It was probably the fastest he had ever eaten, before soon changing and grabbing his bike beginning to pedal rapidly.

He thought it was only a dream, but his dreams within his dreams and desires were one in the same.

His mind roared, a primal instinct having been awoken with the blood red sunset. The flimsy metal wheels weren’t meant for rocky terrain; it was a city bike meant to be used along smooth roads and pavements.

Low rumbles reverberating along the coast only grew louder the more he travelled away from the city. He kept going, even through the forest, not wanting to lose sight of the path before the ball of fire in the sky fully set. It felt like the climactic end of the world, but for some reason, a huge ember orb slowly descending from the sky didn’t sound too bad when put in a philosophical manner.

But the last rays of sunlight began their descent, and the thin thread that brought him a tranquil feeling finally snapped, and he could almost feel the frost on his lips.

_Don’t leave!_ He chased the lingering warmth praying that he wouldn’t be consumed by darkness, but it was too late. By the time he had passed the forest, it was nothing but darkness in a maroon, an inky red unlike the pitch black-blue night he was used to, but would soon come. He hopped off, wheeling it to the fence where he could prop it up. Freedom with the wind and mind, yet pain and tiredness chained him to the ground as he locked his shoulders, holding up his upper body weight against the railing.

“Is this what despair feels like?” he whispered. Black fragments danced in a circle only considered to be something of the occult. They sneered at him in the distance, emerging and disappearing on the horizon. A sheen coat of crimson had varnished itself over the glassy waters, dispersing into a dirty mesh as it came closer. 

“I dunno, does it feel like this?” A voice interrupted him from behind, poking his shoulder.

Shuichi froze. His heart ached as he slowly turned—he didn’t want to. The short boy up on his toes tapping his nose, an all too familiar silhouette enveloped him in an icy stance, freezing him in place. His desire to stay, his want to run as far away as possible, away from him.

“Kokichi?” he still asked.

“Nishishi. That’s a lie. It’s me, Kaede.”

“What?”

“Kidding. Come on, Shumai. You should know better!” he grinned. “Of course it’s me.” He was as pale as a ghost, the white garments outlining his thin frame even more. He twirled a lock of his violet hair, sighing to himself. “What are you doing out here all alone? I thought you had friends.”

“Come on, Kokichi. Stop it, now. What brings you here all of a sudden?” The detective felt himself mumbling underneath his breath, clouds of frost pooling in front of his vision.

“What do you mean? I was walking by and I saw you standing here all by yourself. You should know better than to lean on a rickety old railing by a cliffside, Shuichi. Who knows, you might just fall in and hit your head on the rocks before you begin to drown!” He folded his arms behind his head, clearly enjoying himself as the detective got all flustered with his words.

“That’s not funny. You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Oh, but you saw me earlier today at the ramen place didn’t you?”

“I— just stop. Please stop.”

“What’s wrong Shuichi? You can’t deal with the supreme leader of evil?” Ouma burst out laughing, his arms trembling as they were tense and shaky from the ecstasy in his smile, his giggle. It felt like a freezing gale, one that made you feel more alive than ever.

Every line was a strip of paper that had been ripped off being thrown into the fire soon after. It was a large one, a bonfire that towered over the detective, driving him into a corner. The patterns in the sky grew louder, more prominent in his vision; overwhelmed, underestimated. He had enough—he wanted the truth.

“Don’t you get it? _You’re dead!_ ”

The boy’s laughing came to a halt as his eyes widened. Shuichi lunged forward, grabbing his arm. Cold. Dead like a corpse.

“You’re dead.”he repeated, releasing his grip on his arm. “I’m going mad.” Shuichi was mumbling now, brushing his hands against his coat.

“Well duh, but you obviously wanted to see me again, am I right?” Kokichi grinned. “You’re sad, Shuichi. That’s no good.” He reached up to pinch his cheeks, Saihara feeling the sting of his tiny grip. 

Perhaps it had been unfortunate. They were going to all have a high school reunion a few weeks later when it had happened. Snowfall, the slippery roads in the nighttime. Maybe he was walking along the sidewalk with some Panta, or a takeout dish. Either way, there were younger children as well. Shuichi grit his teeth at the bittersweet image. Kokichi could’ve been patting their heads, giving them mochi even, calling them his “little subordinates”. 

Those blasted truckers who used drugs and other substances to stay awake longer on the road, so they could get more done. That wretched person who decided to take it too far, swerving and crashing into the corner, Kokichi violently shoving a little girl away as glass showered on all of them.

Maybe it was the shock, or the pain within the moment, the stunned reaction he had when he pushed her. The outcome was still the same as they had heard it. After all, the boy had always been confusing with his lies, his cheeky demeanor that had a creeping sense to it. Nothing changed that—nothing could alter what happened next.

The truck fell on its side, crushing him.

Kokichi had always spoken about leadership, and what it meant to him to be someone who fit that role. Sure, his ideas and morals were often twisted at times, but he had a point.

_“You know, Shumai, there’s a difference between a leader and a boss.” He had no idea why he had agreed to this, but he did admit that the fresh air was worth it. Despite being in the heart of the city, the two boys could still see little glimpses of stars beyond the smog and haunting clouds. Kokichi had proposed they sneak out the window of their dorm, which led to one of the lower roofs. Sneakers against gravel_ — _a sound he had often heard in his sleep while a cool breeze fluttered past the curtains._

_“They’re both titles, aren’t they?” He was looking up in response, gripping the ledge from fear. Kokichi was swinging his legs like a happy child on a swing, and he almost resembled one, his youthful features and short stature giving him the benefit of the doubt._

_“Well duh they are!” His voice bounced along the skyline as his mouth curved into a smile. It wasn’t a sinister grin or malevolent smirk; rather, it was one that resembled uncanny happiness, Shuichi only wondering whether it was the truth or not. The purple-haired boy settled down, before his legs succumbed to a numbing halt, his ankles bushing against the brick._

_“A boss is someone who tells you what to do, someone who gives you tasks while they watch from afar. They’re someone who’s sort of distant and you don’t form close bonds with at times. Heck, most end up hating them.” he started, then added on._

_“A leader not only tells you what to do, but will serve alongside you and give you guidance. It’s usually someone you trust, someone you’re close to. They’re a team player as well, not just the coach.”_

_“You’re becoming oddly symbolic.” Shuichi raised an eyebrow, but Kokichi wasn’t looking at him. The clouds had parted, and the faint twinkling of luminary made itself known._

_“I mean, if you don’t appreciate a sentimental lil’ old me, then I could go back to being a pathological liar, being the supreme leader of evil.”_

_Ah, there he was again._

_“I like to think that every star I see is a member of my organization.”_

_“Your organization?”_

_“Or my future political party. Either one works.” Ouma was back to swinging his legs once more, leaning away from the ledge as rough little stones indented his palms._

_“What are you planning to do once you get your degree?” Shuichi took the silence to his advantage, now being the one to ask questions._

_“Hmm? Well I can’t tell you that just yet.” He placed his finger over his lips in a silenced motion, looking up at him from his smaller stature. “Besides, you’re going to be working for the law. I can’t just go around telling you what rules I’ll be breaking.”_

_“What?!”_

_“Ohhh! Now you have to figure out what’s the lie out of everything I said? Or maybe more than one, or maybe all of it too. Nishishi.”_

_“Even that comparison of a leader and a boss?” The future detective tried again._

_“Nah, that was the truth, through and through. I wouldn’t pull on your heartstrings like that with my moving speech, right Shumai?” He laughed again, the air feeling slightly warmer as he did._

_“I mean, I highly doubt that.”_

* * *

“Oh? The plot thickens as the detective goes silent.” Kokichi pulled his scarf over his mouth and neck more, hugging himself. “Can we go somewhere else? I’m cold, you know.”

“...You’re not supposed to be here.” Shuichi felt himself murmur. “Why are you back again, after all this time?”

“You’ve seen me before, Shuichi. It should be no surprise you’d see me again. I’m flattered you’re dreaming about me, though.” He winked, before seeing the look on Saihara’s face.

“Aweh, I’m sorry. Cheer up, okay?” He pinched his cheeks once more, the detective stepping back, his eyes blankly turning to the sky. Kokichi stepped back, and only then did Shuichi see he was barefoot. It must’ve not affected him, whether he was a spirit or delusion, bruises and bloodied skin marking its place on his soles and heels.

“I’m going home,” was all he said in response, gently shoving him away as he turned to the ground, grabbing his propped up bike from the railing. They began speaking to him again—he knew he needed his rest.

“Take me with you.”

Shuichi whirled around in surprise, Kokichi leaning back on one foot as he stepped dangerously close to the ledge, a sad smile decorating his pale skin. Frozen, unsure of what was going on, it was only a matter of moments before the boy fell back over the ledge, a hoarse yell coming from the detective’s throat.

Dropping the bike, he darted to where he had fallen, the ocean welcoming the broken spirit with open arms as his shell exploded in a burst of blue light.

It was loud and blinding; Shuichi couldn’t hear himself screaming. Stars flew upwards as he tried to grasp them with his fingers, the light slipping through them as heat snapped at his palms and burned them. They kept flying up and up, blues, indigos, and violets lighting up in a stream towards space above, and it was only now that he could see the night in all its glory, and the lights that twinkled above, being far from the city.

_“...every star I see is a member of my organization.”_

He bit his tongue, hard enough where he could taste blood as it ran from the corner of his mouth; he had made it home, the scalding hot water hitting his back at 2am. It burned, and he knew very well that he was still alive, still running. 

A shattered vase, a mixed jigsaw puzzle, an unravelling thread, vines that grew out of control. All of the above felt present within his web of mixed feelings and thoughts. It was just a phase, where his triggers were present. It was just another bump in the road before things toned back a little, and he could get through it.

At least, he tried to.

Ever since his encounter with Kokichi, he felt hollow, unaware. It felt like maybe he really was there—maybe he wasn’t dead. As these thoughts got to him, it only confirmed that Kokichi Ouma was his delusion.

It had started in high school. A dark blob would wander among the hallways and phase by the crowds, and the voices in his head were first reminiscent of the loud chatter of students as he continued to walk, though their vocals would remain even when alone.

He’d often feel disoriented seeing them, formless and moving in swirling patterns around him. He didn’t know how or why, but it became distracting. His grades which he usually upheld were getting lower, and he’d phase out during group studies and lectures. Heck, he couldn’t focus with the paranoia around him, a voice whispering to him closely that the vending machine in the cafeteria was going to fall on him and murder him.

At first, Saihara had believed he was going crazy, and that maybe he was sick. Indecisive, he switched between keeping to himself and sheltering himself from the group and appearing more open than he usually was. He figured it’d be over soon.

That is, until he failed his driver’s test.

_The instructor was sitting with him in shotgun as the high school student shakily gripped the wheel, navigating through the course as a moderate speed. He was doing well so far, being no surprise to others who came and watched._

_“Alright, I want you to take the second exit at the roundabout.” Her voice was monotone as she tapped her pen against the clipboard, not helping him at all. He approached the circle steadily, beginning to rotate the wheel and turn the vehicle, and that’s when he heard it._

_A little voice, as if a tiny person stood on his ear and held their hands around their mouth forming a megaphone. It was only three words, but it was enough to cause him to jerk up and swerve the car in the opposite direction, crashing it into a stop sign._

_“It’s a lie.”_

_He remembered the tires making a groaning noise against the curb, glass shattering as the metal pole came crashing through the windshield. He didn’t want to look up at his uncle or anyone even. Had someone been standing there, he could’ve killed them_ — _his thoughts were out of order, these being the last things he remembered as he pressed his forehead against the wheel and cried, blacking out shortly after._

_His moral compass was disoriented, and he was a wandering spirit floating amongst others as the evening passed. He woke up in the hospital, phasing in and out, feeling nothing beneath him. There was no ground to firmly stand on. Shuichi didn’t go to school for two weeks after the incident, burying himself under layers of blankets, blocking all chances of seeing that figure once more. He pressed the cloth against his ears to block out the continuous voices that spoke to him. He felt nauseous from entrapping himself in the oven he hid himself in._

_Every now and then, he’d look out the window for some sunlight, and he’d hear glimpses of his uncle and aunt talking outside his room. They felt miles away when they were only a few paces behind the door. Only then did he see his reflection in the glass when he wasn’t focused on the streets and sidewalks. He had bags under his eyes, and his pupils had lost their glowing sheen, appearing as a now dull and muted gold. Bloodshot and dry from rubbing them too much, Shuichi didn’t recognize himself, feeling like a stranger when his uncle entered the room. They didn’t look related anymore, and he felt nothing, not even a sense of warmth as the man wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling him close giving him gentle caresses along his cheek with his thumb._

_He had visited the psychiatrist a few days after the initial crash, explaining his hallucinations and feeling a sense of relief, but a stranger to himself at the same time. He was given a diagnosis and prescribed some drugs to take, but otherwise he seemed healthy, despite the bandages covering his face, shoulders, and arms from the glass._

_The boy returned to school after those two weeks of fear and isolation. He knew how high school was, and was spot-on when he heard whispers and rumours from the other students on where he had been this entire time._

_His homeroom class was the only group he felt close to and trusted, so a wave of assurance hit him as he stepped inside. Kaede gave him a kind smile, gesturing to the desk next to her, which he gladly took. Everyone was overall happy Shuichi was back, their class of 16 complete once more._

_He felt more at ease now that he knew what was actually going on with him, but it was in that class he couldn’t help but look up towards the boy sitting two rows ahead of him. Kokichi Ouma, a kid known for saying those dreaded three words that initiated the crash. Surely it couldn’t have been him. It was his own mind playing tricks on him._

Yet since the death of the boy, the blob slowly took the shape of a short man, his hair growing and his features becoming more defined. So his mind had shaped his delusion as Kokichi, in hopes that he was still here after the accident, scraping together what memories he had of him and how he acted.

There was no avail in the end.

* * *

He had solved the case, and everything had relatively gone down. Less hallucinations, both visual and auditory, but no sign of Kokichi. Part of him wished that he’d come back, despite the pain with it, but days turned into weeks, and the more that phased by Shuichi like a blur, the more he felt he was already dead.

Maybe his whole life was a delusion, one so real that it played him like a violin, shredding the hairs of the bow and snapping the fingerboard, one that unraveled the strings. It was a feeling of disarray, and something he wanted to end, something he wished he could retry—something he wished to settle within himself and those last words he had heard.

_“Take me with you.”_

It was Monday evening, everyone usually being busy. He had made his decision prior and was going to see for himself what it really meant to cross the borders or what he believed, and what thread he was willing to snap in order to find the absolute truth.

Now he was desperate, his movements like a drunkard. Clean, organized, timid Saihara was nearly gone. He was afraid, but able—calm yet terrified that if he were to go, maybe things would change. He could try; he could get that feeling that he wanted all this time. Something that was more than satisfaction, that could enhance his senses and what it truly meant to be one with yourself.

And so he dumped the canister of pills in the trash without regret.

His adrenaline was pumping. This was reality. Not the black silhouettes with glowing eyes or broken glass that danced in a circle in the sky, all too much like the devil’s puppets. Not the voices that murdered loudly, screaming whispers clouding his eardrums. He was all along as the trees began to disperse, passing the forest to the cliffside.

Shuichi practically threw himself off his bike, kicking off his sandals as the jacket he wore flew wildly in the wind as he shrugged it off. Scraped knees, bloodied palms, bare feet colliding against rocks. He was his person, and he was going to set it free. That same desire of something more beyond satisfaction was a starving beast, desperate for any kind of prey. And after all these weeks of anticipation and patience, he found it as he leapt off the edge.

Alive.

The only feeling that crossed his mind and crushed his skull as his body was hurled down below. Idly, he let physics come into play as he lurched forward, hitting the water from the back of his neck before tumbling all the way in facing up.

This wasn’t a dream, as the jaws of that desire were now latched onto a dying animal, its blood warming his senses, painting his cheeks with colour once more. A hug that wrapped around him in the most unsettling way that he was looking for. Since then—since that dream many weeks ago. He let the rest play out in the back of his mind before his eyes fluttered open after the rush. Salt water stung his pupils, his eyelashes caught in the lid as he hazily was surrounded in darkness. His lower half was already numb, the sharp teeth of acidity attacking his wounds. The detective let the pain settle in before deciding to flip himself upright. His chin faced the sky from below, questioning whether or not he should reach for it—whether he wanted to stay.

His question was answered for him as he subconsciously urged himself up, wanting air. He took large gulps as he broke the surface, treading the surface as he heard thunder rumble in the distance.

He refused to let _it_ defy him. His diagnosis, it was nothing more than bitter words and medication. Shuichi Saihara was a detective, he was kind and compassionate, he sought the truth. He was a strong, capable young man that was not to be trifled with or underestimated.

A soft rain began to pour as he floated on his back, watching the clouds gather in a soft choir. The armor he now dawned plastered to his forehead in a sheen coating. The heat began to rise within him as the waves began to dance, Shuichi adrift along the top.

He didn’t know how far he was from the cliff now. It was only a matter of time before lightning would strike; the rain began pelting him like bullets, each one woven with a truth or a lie he had to overcome. Enough was enough as he closed his eyes, idle amongst the glass—the ice, whatever it was. It was all coming together as he could feel the cool light of the moon dawn its presence upon him. Whether it be by the gods or his fate intertwining with the fabric of the universe, it was not the night that shattered through, but something new entirely. 

And then he understood; this was _his_ song. It was meant for him to embrace as pain hit him in his abdomen in a burst of light.

The gods, fate, luck even, whatever it was, Shuichi was already sinking, the blood beginning to rise from his stomach. A silent plea—soft dwindling notes like a lullaby. Fuschia danced like petals in the wind, his fingers brushing through them, and as he exhaled for the final time, a revelation struck him like the lightning had.

“Take me with you.”

It was a strange thing for someone to utter when someone was already deceased, thus why Kokichi had never said it in the first place.

Shuichi had.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This was my first time writing a Danganronpa fanfic, so if a lot of the characters seem OOC, that's why. 
> 
> I don't know if people caught on, but in this AU, Shuichi is schizophrenic, meaning he both sees and hears hallucinations and even delusions. The difference between a hallucination and delusion is that you see and hear a hallucination, but a delusion is something you truly believe to be real in some cases.
> 
> I did my best to research and gather material in order to get this right. I in no means intend **any** offence towards people who have this condition, and only decided to write this out of a general idea that Shuichi's delusions could lead him to believing false claims and facts on certain cases.
> 
> However, I of course had to go off topic and not do that entirely, and instead dumped a whole lot of angst in this with a sprinkling of SaiOuma/Oumasai. I'm not the best writer, but I hope I did schizophrenia justice through my writing.
> 
> Thank you all for reading, and I hope I didn't disappoint if you clicked this.


End file.
